In Marvel with the Force?

The city loomed before Tyr like a sprawling, chaotic beast. Towering skyscrapers glinted in the fading sunlight, their steel-and-glass exteriors reflecting the fiery hues of dusk. Cars honked and roared along wide streets teeming with people, the noise crashing into Tyr like a physical force. He stood on the edge of it all, frozen, his violet eyes wide as he tried to take in the overwhelming sight.

He had never left the orphanage before. Helix had been his entire world—a quiet, isolated place surrounded by dense forest. The sounds there were predictable: the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds, the laughter of children. But here? This city was alive in a way that felt utterly alien.

Tyr stepped forward hesitantly, joining the tide of pedestrians flowing along the sidewalk. People brushed past him, their faces set in determined expressions or buried in their phones. No one spared him more than a glance, though his tattered clothes and wary posture earned him a few fleeting looks.

"So many people," Tyr muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible above the din. He felt like an intruder, a single thread out of place in the vast, intricate tapestry of the city.

His heart raced as he walked, the sheer scale of everything pressing down on him. The streets were endless, the buildings towering, and the crowds unyielding. The memories he'd inherited from Theon offered glimpses of cities, but experiencing one firsthand was an entirely different thing. He felt small, insignificant, lost in a sea of strangers.

'How do people live like this?' he thought, his chest tightening.

A loud honk jolted him from his thoughts, and he stumbled back onto the sidewalk just as a cab sped past. The driver shouted something unintelligible, and Tyr blinked, shaken.

"This is insane," he muttered, clenching his fists to steady himself. He knew he couldn't stay frozen. The city wouldn't wait for him to adjust—it would swallow him whole if he didn't adapt quickly.

He kept walking, his head down, letting the flow of the crowd guide him. As the minutes turned into hours, hunger gnawed at his stomach, a sharp reminder of his predicament. The last of the snacks he'd scavenged from the orphanage was long gone, and the tantalizing scent of food wafting from street vendors only made things worse.

Tyr stopped at a corner, leaning against a lamppost as he scanned his surroundings. He needed a plan—shelter, food, and money, in that order.

The first problem was shelter. Sleeping on the streets wasn't an option; the hard ground in the forest had been bad enough, but here, with the noise, the people, and the ever-present sense of danger, it was unthinkable. He needed a place to rest, somewhere he could think clearly and figure out his next move.

'Money,' he thought grimly. Without it, finding shelter was impossible. He glanced around, his gaze lingering on the people walking by. Most of them seemed comfortable, their clothes clean and their steps purposeful. Others, like him, had a more desperate air—shuffling along with hollow eyes, their lives etched in every wrinkle and tear of their clothing.

Tyr's chest tightened. He'd seen desperation before, in the eyes of some of the kids at the orphanage. But here, it was magnified tenfold.

"I need to focus," he muttered, shaking his head.

Begging crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost immediately. It was a short-term solution at best, and it wasn't in his nature to rely on the pity of others.

His thoughts shifted to the possibilities his memories offered.

'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters,' he thought, the idea flashing in his mind. The school had been a haven for mutants and those with extraordinary abilities, a place where people like him could find safety and guidance.

But then he remembered something else—Xavier's telepathy. The man's ability to read minds was legendary, and the idea of being under the scrutiny of such a power made Tyr's stomach churn.

"Mind-rapist," he muttered bitterly, pushing the thought aside. That wasn't an option.

Another possibility surfaced: Kamar-Taj. The Ancient One's order was said to train individuals in the mystic arts, teaching them to harness their potential and protect the world from threats both seen and unseen. If there was anyone who could help Tyr understand his powers, it was the Ancient One.

But there were too many unknowns. He didn't know if the Ancient One would even accept him, let alone train him. And finding the Sanctum Sanctorum, let alone Kamar-Taj, seemed like an impossible task.

Tyr sighed, rubbing his temples. "Great. No easy answers."

The noise of the city seemed to grow louder, pressing in on him as he tried to think. His hunger made it hard to concentrate, and the fatigue from his endless walking was catching up to him.

He drifted into a quieter part of the city as the day wore on. The towering skyscrapers gave way to smaller buildings, their facades worn and weathered. He passed an old basketball court surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence and decided to stop. His legs ached, and the relentless noise of the city had dulled to a manageable hum.

Tyr sat on the cracked asphalt, pulling out the last crumbs of a granola bar he'd found earlier. He ate slowly, savoring every bite despite how unsatisfying it was.

A familiar sensation crept over him—the feeling of being watched.

He froze, his instincts sharpening as he scanned the area. The court was empty, save for a few plastic bottles rolling in the wind.

Tyr's pulse quickened. He stood slowly, his violet eyes darting around. There was no one in sight, but the sensation persisted, an undeniable prickle at the back of his neck.

"Relax," he whispered to himself, trying to steady his breathing. "It's just the city. You're not used to it yet."

But he couldn't shake the feeling.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. The faint flicker of energy he had felt in the forest was still there, elusive but present. He tried to reach for it, to coax it into something tangible, but the harder he tried, the further it seemed to slip away.

Frustration bubbled in his chest, but he forced it down.

"Not now," he muttered, clenching his fists. "Not here."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, and the city began to transform. Neon lights flickered to life, bathing the streets in a kaleidoscope of colors. The noise didn't abate; if anything, it grew louder, a chaotic symphony of voices, engines, and music.

Tyr resumed his aimless journey, his mind a storm of thoughts.

The wilderness had tested his strength, Hydra had tested his resolve, and now the city was testing his will.

The memories he had inherited from Theon offered some guidance, but they couldn't prepare him for this. This was a different kind of challenge—a battle not against enemies or monsters, but against the world itself.

He caught sight of his reflection in a shop window as he passed. His face was gaunt, his black hair disheveled, and his violet eyes stared back at him, filled with exhaustion and determination.

"You'll figure it out," he said softly, his voice barely audible above the noise.

Tyr clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He didn't need Xavier's School. He didn't need Kamar-Taj. He didn't need anyone. He would find his own way, on his own terms.

Tomorrow, he would figure out a way to earn money. Tomorrow, he would find a place to sleep.

But for now, he walked.